


Tastes Like You, Only Sweeter

by EmptyIceCreamContainer



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Comedy, F/M, Patrick is naughty, Porn with some plot, Youtube AU, cooking show au, extremely late and/or early Christmas fic, inappropriate workplace flirting (technically), terrible holiday foods, wilson (expensive mistakes) video
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-15
Updated: 2019-02-15
Packaged: 2019-10-28 20:29:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17794226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmptyIceCreamContainer/pseuds/EmptyIceCreamContainer
Summary: Natalie, host of a struggling YouTube cooking show, desperately needs to boost the show's views.  She gets more than she bargained for in the form of guest star Patrick Stump.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> When you fall asleep after watching the Wilson (Expensive Mistakes) video and a bunch of cooking shows, you get some interesting dreams. Sometimes, those dreams give you some good fic ideas.
> 
> Disclaimer: I know nothing about the production of cooking shows, YouTube or otherwise. I also barely cook at all, so there’s that too. Since this is based on a dream, I basically went with the dream logic but smoothed over to make it make some actual sense.  
> Also, there are two crappy recipes in this fic. One is, sadly, a very real recipe and I even included the link to prove it. The other one I had to invent myself, and I’m not sure how to feel about my first invented recipe being… well, you’ll see…

As Natalie helped prepare the show kitchen, she couldn’t believe her luck.  Her little YouTube cooking show, Tillie’s Treats, was going to have a _guest star_.  What a step up!  This could really help bring them to an actual level of online success—“Them” in this case being just herself (the aspiring chef and host of the show), Brenda the camerawoman (who was using this as an internship/resume fodder during her time studying film at the local university), and Dan and Cheryl, the married couple who served as directors and various office staff (actually real estate investors and friends of Natalie’s family who had been kind enough to let her use one of their yet-unflipped houses as a filming location). 

 

It was a small crew, but a dedicated one, and they genuinely enjoyed their little show that they produced.  They had an equally small but dedicated viewership, but everyone involved knew that if they wanted to get even the slightest bit of revenue from their content, they’d have to raise their profile a little bit.  At some point during a brainstorming session, someone had brought up the idea of bringing in a guest star to hopefully hook in some viewers from that person’s fanbase.  Natalie immediately jumped on the idea, sending emails out to other channels in the hopes of collaboration…but apparently, none even cared enough to send a proper rejection letter.

 

Not wanting to give up, Natalie had turned to the one person she knew could help—her goddamn cousin Bert.  Bert was a film director who, having started out working on the earliest days of online prank videos, had slowly but surely worked his way up to major studio films and friendships with A-list stars…and had decided he was “too cool” to keep in touch with family members the second he’d landed his first D-list directing deal.  Now he worked with everyone from popular YouTubers to the ultimate Hollywood elite, and would _not_ let anyone who talked to him ever forget about that fact.  His ego could be seen from space, even though he wasn’t even the _main_ director—he was like the 4th assistant one.  Still, it paid big enough bucks and let him rub elbows with the elite. 

 

Bert was inevitably “busy at work” and unable to make the family dinner on any major holiday, only to have him show up in the background of a celebrity’s holiday party photo in the tabloids the day after.  But by a freaking _miracle_ he’d actually showed up for 5 minutes that Thanksgiving—darting his way between a fancy golf course and a major A-list shindig—and she’d managed to corner him and practically beg for him to ask someone to guest star on her cooking show.

 

“Sure, sure, anything for my little cousin Nat,” he said in that schmoozy tone he never dropped.  She fully expected him to forget the second he was out the door.  Her hope was that he might be able to convince one of his lower-level connections, a YouTuber or maybe a reality show star, to drop by for an episode.

 

She did NOT expect what he said in his phone call.  Hell, she was shocked that he’d even called her back to begin with.

 

“Hey there Cuz!  You know about that band Fall Out Boy?” he drawled through the phone.

“Yeah, I know of them,” she responded in a massive understatement, glancing toward the CD rack next to the stereo that had their entire discography.

“Hey!  Great!  Well, I’m doing their new music video right now!”

Holy Shit! Natalie’s mind started racing.  What were they like in person?  Could Bert bring her to the set to meet them?  She couldn’t quite formulate a proper response, so ended up replying with a slightly dumbfounded, “Oh?”

“Yeah, for their newest album!  Anyways, I remembered what you said, and I asked about it.  Pete, ya know, the bassist?  He said he’d be glad to swing by your cooking show to give it a boost!”

Natalie couldn’t help it.  She screamed in joy.

 

From then on it was a mad rush from her and the crew to get things in order.  They had to have this episode properly planned; they had a _guest star_ and they had to get things as professional as possible.  She had no idea how Bert possibly talked someone with that level of fame into appearing on her show; she figured he either massively exaggerated how big her show was, or Pete owed Bert some kind of debt, or Pete lost some kind of bet to Bert.  Any way she slices it though, this is going to be something special.

 

Natalie and the crew decided to have the episode be one of the Wretched Wednesday posts—part of their comedic series where they find the grossest, weirdest, funniest recipes out of vintage cookbooks and comedy-roast (and sometimes literally roast) them to Hell.  Those episodes were exactly the sort of lighthearted fun that would well suit a guest and hook new viewers.  Since it was the holiday season and the episode was airing around Christmas, they selected a Christmas dish and set to work on the script.

 

She decided not to announce the collab on the channel until the episode was actually filmed, about 2 weeks before the planned post date.  The whole thing sounded way too good to be true; best not promise what she couldn’t deliver.  If it’s all some weird prank by her cousin, she’ll just film the episode as a normal one and her few viewers would be none the wiser.

 

Thus, there she was, the day of the filming, helping finish the set a couple hours before their special guest was about to arrive.  The theme of the new album, _Mania_ , was purple, so extra set decorations were added in the form of appropriately-colored vegetables.  These included purple cabbage, purple potatoes, and, well, _eggplants_.  Texting may have changed the connotation of that particular foodstuff, but it sure hadn’t changed its thematic color.  The shape was also potentially thematic, she thought, as she reviewed the recipe of choice…

 

That was when Natalie got the inevitable call from Bert.

 

“Hey there Nat,” he started, an apologetic tone coloring the schmooziness.  “Turns out Pete has another project he has to do last-minute, and won’t be able to show up.”  She figured this was what would happen all along, but wished Bert would have alerted her a bit sooner so that her hopes wouldn’t be dashed _right before filming_.  Still, at least she’d predicted this as a possible outcome, and had an alternate script ready to go.  She was so deep into mentally preparing herself to implement Plan B that she almost missed what Bert said next.  “Yeah, Pete won’t be showing up.  But that lead singer, ya know, Patrick?  He agreed to show up instead.  He’ll be there in like an hour, probably.  Ok, best of luck Nat, do your cousin Bert proud!”

 

Wait… _what????_

 

Bert had hung up the phone before she could ask for any further clarification.  Just as she’d settled on doing the show as a normal episode, she was sent reeling again.  _Patrick_ would be the guest now???  She tried to tell herself to calm down, that this was a good thing, that she still had a guest star.  However, she couldn’t quite calm down for two significant reasons.

 

The first was that Patrick had been her celebrity crush for years now.  It was weird thinking of meeting him in person, having to look him in the eye after having had a poster of him on her wall during high school and college. 

 

The second was that she’d had the episode prepared for _Pete_.  Pete and his decidedly wilder, raunchier public persona.  Pete seemed to have endless shirtless photo shoots and dirty jokes to go around.  Patrick, crush-worthy though he was, also happened to be decidedly _cleaner_.  The dude wore cardigans and freaking _dad hats_ , for crying out loud.  As far as she could tell, nobody had yet managed to be raunchy while wearing a goddamn _cardigan_.  Sure, the whole Soul Punk thing happened, but that seemed to be a phase he’d left in the past and possibly even regretted (she sincerely hoped he didn’t; that had been a _good_ phase).  She’s honestly not sure how this will go; the wacky, just-barely-clean-enough-to-stay-on-YouTube humor that was intended for Pete was even factored into the _goddamn recipe_ , and the ingredients are all bought and ready and there’s absolutely no time to whip up a replacement.

 

You see, she didn’t just pick any shitty Christmas recipe.  She picked [Christmas Candle Salad](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Candle_salad), AKA the nasty fruit salad that she and the crew more accurately called “Christmas Boners”.  It involved standing a banana up in rings of pineapple or other fruit, surrounding it with leafy greens, and then drizzling mayonnaise on the tip of the banana.  The recipe claimed it was supposed to look like a Christmas candle with dripping wax in a festive wreath; to anyone sane it looked like a very obvious phallic representation surrounded by pubes.  Even on a flavor level, the _mayonnaise_ …why not at least something sweet, like cream or condensed milk or melted white chocolate?  Disturbingly, the vintage recipe card Nat had found suggested it be prepared by _children_ , claiming that its easy assembly and healthy nature made it a good introduction to cooking.  Holy _shit_ , making this with kids around sounded like a bad idea.

 

Since the assembly for the Boners was so fast, she’d created a second, matching recipe of her own to accompany it.  She wasn’t even going to _think_ about how that was going to go down.

 

She rushed to help her crew finish preparing the studio.  The harsh reality was that they were going to have to throw out the script and somehow improvise the entire thing, with the naughtiest recipe and the unfortunately _cleanest_ guest star.  Maybe.  She took solace in the fact that the guy had survived around his bandmates for nearly two decades, and thus might not run screaming.

 

Nat had just finished putting the final touch on the set—hanging up a MANIA Corp banner across some upper cupboards in the background—when her guest arrived.  She went to answer the door, nervous as Hell.  She wasn’t sure what to expect.  Would he bring a whole entourage?  Would she just be addressing him through his “people” all day aside from the actual filmed segments?  What she certainly hadn’t expected was to open the door to Patrick himself, accompanied only by an assistant hovering behind him in the background.

 

“You’re Patrick Stump!” she said in surprise, holding out her hand for a handshake.  She wanted to facepalm.  Great, what a wonderful first impression, she couldn’t even say something normal and human like ‘hi’.

 

“And you’re Tillie!” he responded with a smile, giving a pleasantly firm handshake.

 

“Er, well, actually, you can call me Nat,” she responds.  “I just go by Tillie so the title could be alliterative.”  It took her a second to register that Bert must have shown Patrick an episode of her show, or at least a picture of her.  She didn’t know why but that felt a bit thrilling.

 

“Come inside, I’ll show you around!” she blurted out, ushering him and his assistant through the door.  She willed herself not to think of a ‘that’s what she said’ interpretation of her phrase.

 

As she led him around the house-turned-studio, she couldn’t help but notice how gorgeous he was in person.  There was nothing obviously special about his look that day—black t-shirt, jeans, denim jacket, baseball cap—but it very much _worked_ for him.  And that wasn’t even getting to the sparkling bright blue eyes that lay behind his glasses, that shining smile, the look of genuine interest when she excitedly explained about the job she loved so much…

 

She did her best to subtly sneak glances at him throughout the short tour.  She couldn’t help it, he was _really_ there, he was beautiful…what else could she do?  She told herself it was just her fangirlish imagination when she thought she caught him sneaking glances at her too.

 

A glance at a wall clock brought her back to reality.  They’d need to start filming soon!  She gently ushered him into a dressing room, where Cheryl was waiting with makeup and a summary of the episode.  They’d be shooting without a full script due to the sudden last minute change.  Nat ducked into another room to touch up her own makeup.

 

_Calm down, you can do this,_ she thought.  Dear God, why couldn’t it have been Joe “We didn’t bring the sexy stuff” Trohman, who would have also fit right in with the original script?  Why did it have to be the band member who currently cultivated the squeaky-cleanest image? _Remember Soul Punk, remember “no good fucking television”, just hope he hasn’t decided to leave that completely behind…_

 

Even more trying was the idea that she was going to have to deal with his goddamn golden gorgeousness throughout the filming.  She’d barely gotten through the tour of the studio without completely leering at him.  For all she worried about the script being “clean”, her thoughts were 100% down-in-the-gutter dirty.  Wanting to toss that cap aside and run her hands through his hair as he buried his face between her legs and put those perfect lips to good use…

“You OK in there???  We’re ready to film!” Brenda’s voice and knock on the door jarred Nat out of her fantasy.

 

“I’m coming!” Nat shouted back.  _Word choice, Natalie_ , she reprimanded herself as she gathered her wits and left her dressing room, putting her earpiece in place so that Cheryl or Brenda could talk to her without being heard on camera.

 

She arrived at the kitchen to find the crew all ready and Patrick in a chair getting his face powdered by Cheryl.  Dan, now acting as assistant to the director, sat in a folding chair with a clipboard, as Brenda double checked the camera rig. 

 

Patrick had swapped the jacket for a purple cardigan with the Mania wave logo, and he looked goddamn _radiant_.  This was going to be a trying shoot.

 

Nat cleared her throat, steeled her nerves, and took her place behind the counter.  Brenda started up the camera, and Cheryl moved to another folding chair next to Dan’s as she took up her second role as director.

 

5, 4, 3, 2, 1, action!

 

“Hello everyone, and welcome to this week’s Wretched Wednesday!  As a special Christmas gift for you, this episode is brought to you by none other than Mania Corp!  Mania Corp- ‘We swear we are an actual corporation! Please buy our fidget spinners!’” Nat began, gesturing towards the banner behind her.  The theme for the episode was to tie in with the weird, wacky, Mania Corp promotional stuff, as if the bizarre company that was so invested in bath bombs and fidget spinners decided to sponsor a cooking show as well.

 

“And now, joining us for today, fresh from Mania Corp itself, is our very special guest—Patrick Stump!”

 

Patrick walked onto the set, flashing a brilliant smile and giving a little wave to the camera.

 

“I’m so glad you agreed to join us today, Mr. Stump!  Are you up for trying some potentially questionable recipes?” Nat asked, extending a hand for a handshake for the on-camera greeting.

 

“Please, call me Patrick,” he replied, shaking her hand.  “And I’m certainly up.  I _do_ have a working male mouth, after all.”  He said it with a mostly straight face, but Natalie couldn’t help but notice the slightest curl at the corner of his lips.  She looked out the corner of her eye at her crew.  She could tell that they, like her, had picked up _something_ vaguely dirty about that, but his serious delivery and the strict technical accuracy of the line left things just open to interpretation.  It was then she realized that she hadn’t let go of his hand after the handshake.  Whoops.  She did her best not to drop his hand like he’d burned her, and quickly cleared her throat.

 

“Well then, Patrick, I may as well introduce you to our first recipe for today,” she said, getting the photo card out from the drawer to display up on the counter.  He seemed to be standing awfully (well, wonderfully) close to her, given the size of the kitchen, but she brushed it off as him being interested in the forthcoming recipe announcement.

 

“Today’s recipe is Christmas Candle Salad!” she announced, displaying the card with the title and photo of the food in question.  “This festive foodstuff will certainly fill you with warmth, as this fruit-based dish takes on the form of a lovely tapered candle, surrounded by a thick festive wreath, and dripping with wax as it brings holiday pleasure to guests and hosts alike!”  She gave the whole description in the most wide-smiled Martha Stewart tone possible.  Hey, at least this finally let her blurt out all those innuendos while having an excuse for it.  “What do you think about making it?”

 

“Well, I certainly hope I can rise to the occasion!” That same cheeky semi-hidden smirk appeared yet again.  Nat faced that same internal debate over exactly how much of his word choice was on purpose.

“Well then, let’s get started!”

 

With Patrick’s assistance, Nat pulled the ingredients out of the cupboards and refrigerator and set to work preparing the recipe, narrating the process all the while.  She couldn’t help but notice the way Patrick seemed to keep close to her, brushing against her as he walked behind, or accidentally touching her hand when they reached for the same ingredient.  Once again she felt his eyes on her too; this time she tried to brush it off as him trying to pay really close attention to the recipe.  Never mind that the candle-boners were basically foolproof—the idea that he was _actually_ checking her out, _deliberately_ trying to touch her… that seemed too good to be true.

 

The episode was going absolutely smoothly until it came time to stand the banana “candles” in the pineapple-ring bases.  One particularly large, curved specimen kept flopping over rather than staying upright.  Nat awkwardly tried getting it to work several times before Patrick politely stepped in.

 

“I might be able to help!” he said, looking dangerously angelic.  “I think I have just the _hand_ for this _job_.”  Out of seemingly nowhere, he had THAT hand—the severed hand from The Youngblood Chronicles.  He propped it against the troublesome banana in such a way that it stayed upright… and also happened to provide the gory/hilarious image of a severed hand jerking off a disembodied fruit dick.  As he did so, Patrick’s eyes met Nat’s.  There was an _unmistakable_ spark of naughty mischief there.  She gave just enough of a knowing glance to let him know she understood and liked it, without breaking too much of her calmly cheery show host demeanor.  She restrained herself from fangirling instead, as Britney Spears emphasizing “He’s not!  _That!_   **_Innocent!!!_** ” played delightfully in her head.

 

He totally got it.  This episode was going to work out perfectly.

 

As he had reached over to position the hand at the front of the counter, Natalie couldn’t help but get a good look at Patrick’s… lower half.  The jeans he wore were _quite_ well fitted, showing off his legs and ass to great effect.  And when he turned around, well.  The bulge to the right of his zipper suggested a rather impressive, er, _eggplant_.

 

_Well, that will certainly help get us views_ , she thought, until she realized that the counter in front of them meant that the camera’s view was strictly waist-up.  _Well then, **I’m**_ _lucky_ , was her greedy thought as she realized that she alone in the studio was getting to enjoy the sight.  She was so caught up in enjoying the view that she almost missed her cue to continue the recipe.

 

“Alright, now that that’s settled, it’s time for the drizzling wax.  Now, the vintage recipe calls for mayonnaise, but I also have some condensed milk here that might make it more palatable for the modern holiday partygoer.”  She handed Patrick the condensed milk while she took the mayonnaise, each working on half the bananas.  She _definitely_ noticed how he dumped extra amounts of the white liquid on the “hand job” candle (to the point where it dripped down the banana and the fingers) while throwing a definitive glance in her direction; she gave him a small, genuine smile in acknowledgment.

 

“And that’s it for the Christmas Candle Salad, folks!  Wasn’t that easy?  Now as for our next recipe…”

 

“Wait!” Patrick interrupted.  “Shouldn’t, you know, there be a taste test first?”

 

“Oh, right, indeed…” Nat suddenly found herself with a bit of a problem.  Technically, yes, there should be a taste test at that point, but the recipe was both unpalatable and undeniably _suggestive_ to eat.  Well, the show had to go on…

 

“I’ll go ahead and try one of the modern variants, since the older one’s taste has been decidedly documented as underwhelming,” she decided out loud, reaching for one of the condensed milk-topped versions.  As she delicately picked up the dripping pineapple-banana assembly on its leafy stand, she found herself in a dilemma over how exactly to handle the visuals of eating it.  She was extremely aware of Patrick and his proximity to her—she could practically feel the heat radiating off him—and a significant part of her wanted to make this decidedly symbolic of at least one thing she’d _love_ to do to him.  However, her awareness of the camera, and the need to remain monetized on YouTube, won out, and she rather quickly and decisively bit into the banana.  Maybe a little _too_ quickly, as she thought she saw both Patrick and Dan wince a little.  She took off a bit of the pineapple ring and added it to her mouth to try out the full flavor.

 

“So, uh, how’s the flavor?” Patrick asked, still looking a little stunned, and possibly just a little disappointed.

 

“Not bad.  It’s like a fruit salad, but with condensed milk on it.  A very sweet, dessert-like fruit salad.  Not great, but not bad.”  She set the half-finished dish aside.

 

“Alright then, _now_ on to the next recipe—and this one’s a Tillie’s Treat’s original!”  She took a deep breath, more nervous than usual at debuting a new treat.  “It’s the Christmas season, and we’ve got the candles all ready.  But what else is festive?  Sleigh rides!  So why not make your own little Christmas Sleigh pastries to serve alongside Christmas Candle Salad and other festive dishes?”

 

The recipe involved sponge cake tinted with red food dye, slices of the distinctly pink-fleshed Pink Pearl apple, a maraschino cherry, and copious amounts of clear sugary glaze.  To pad out the episode’s length, Nat started with a demonstration of how to make the small, thick, rectangular sponge cakes from scratch.  She laid out the ingredients for her and Patrick to work with, and began giving out orders about how to properly combine them.

 

Once again she noticed the casual proximity and “accidental” touches, and decided to test her hopeful suspicion that it really _was_ an attempt at subtle flirting.  She returned with her own little brushes of the hand, and caught the slightest smile on his lips.  It was then that she realized how much she’d been barking orders; she wasn’t quite used to having anyone else on the show, after all…

 

“Sorry if I’m bossing you around a bit…”

 

“Oh, I can take orders when I _want_ to.  I just usually prefer to _give_ them.”

 

Nat nearly dropped egg shell pieces into the bowl.  “Oh, get a _room_ you two,” Brenda teased Nat through her earpiece.  Wait… was all this super clear to everyone else in the room?

 

She deliberately under-dyed the sponge cake so that it would come out more fleshy pink than proper Christmas red.  Of course, she didn’t tell the viewers that.

 

Through the magic of having two small pink sponge cakes (one for Patrick to prepare, one for herself) already baked beforehand, it was time to get to the Christmas Sleighs assembly.

 

“Alright, now, to start off with, we need to make this cake into the base sleigh.”  She carefully cut into the top of the cake, hollowing out a channel that was generally more canoe-shaped than reminiscent of a sleigh.

 

“Now, to be comfortable, the sleigh interior needs a lining.  Those festive red apple slices we made earlier should do the trick!”  Obviously, the apple slices, like the cake, were more distinctly _pink_ than red, but acknowledging that would ruin the illusion.  She took a couple of the thin slices and arranged them in the cake channel.  Patrick followed suit with his cake, shooting a glance towards Nat that indicated he could already tell _exactly_ where this recipe was headed.

 

“Now, a sleigh needs a driver, so let’s use those cherries!”  She delicately placed a cherry at one end of the channel, nesting it in a bit.  “And since these are Christmas sleighs, they’ll have a generous coating of festive frost!”  She took the wet sugar glaze and liberally globbed it over the whole concoction.

 

“And there they are, your wonderful Christmas Sleigh pastries!”

 

Of course, to anyone even vaguely experienced in the world, they didn’t look at all like sleighs, Christmas or otherwise.  They were pretty clearly crude, food based representations of vaginas.  Absolutely sopping vaginas—as uncomfortably wet as she was from filming this damned episode—made out of unholy amounts of sugar products.  Christmas Pussies to match the Christmas Boners.  Nat had decided it was only fair that both sets of “standard” genitals get terrible holiday food representation.

 

The “Sleighs” barely had a second of display before Patrick unceremoniously reached out, skimmed his fingers across one, and stuck his fingers in his mouth to taste the glaze.

 

“Hey!” Nat exclaimed, surprised.

 

“What?  Shouldn’t there be a taste test, now that we’ve finished the recipe?” was his response, voice dripping with as much feigned innocence as his fingers had been dripping with glaze.

 

“Yes, but don’t just stick your fingers in like that—taste it properly!” This time Nat’s phrasing was entirely intentional.

 

At that second it occurred to her that she actually had no idea how one was supposed to eat this dish.  The whole thing was about the joke; she’d never actually tasted the thing.  She didn’t want to, considering the level of over-processed sugar overload that was likely happening.  Did you use a fork?  A spoon to scoop up all the glaze leaking onto the plate?  She was fairly certain, however, that whichever way one was theoretically supposed to eat this dish, it emphatically was _not_ what Patrick did next.

 

He brought the plate to his face and, well, basically did the equivalent to what she’d considered doing to that banana earlier.  He dove right into the festive sugar explosion; his tongue lapped up the glaze, his lips skimmed over the delicate apple slices, traveling up the length of the cake to tease at the cherry… all while he moaned like it was the most delicious dessert he’d encountered in his lifetime.  Nat, completely stunned, could only stare wide-eyed at him, gripping the edge of the counter to steady herself.

 

He… he had to be doing that on purpose, right?  It was either that or Nat had accidentally discovered the best-ever recipe while trying for the shittiest one.  Just to check, she took the other prepared pastry and tasted it herself.  Sure enough, it was as tooth-rottingly over-sweet as she’d anticipated.  Meaning that either he had the worst sweet tooth in the universe, or he was definitely doing this all for her.

 

“You certainly seem to be enjoying my puss—my _pastry_ ,” she managed to stammer out, hoping that her near-slipup wasn’t _too_ obvious to the still-rolling camera.

 

“It’s _exquisite_ ,” he responded among his enthusiastic work on the dish, his eyes flicking up and holding her gaze over the plate, sparking with electric intensity.  Oh, this was _definitely_ for her.  Her eyes skimmed his body again, admiring every inch of him.  Dear _god_ had that bulge in his jeans gotten even more pronounced?  He was sex incarnate in a _goddamn cardigan_.  That’s it, after the filming she was definitely going to find some secluded place around there and do absolutely naughty things to him.

 

_After filming_.  Oh _shit_ , they were still filming!  Natalie needed to look somewhere, anywhere else to prevent herself from jumping Patrick then and there, audience be damned.  Her eyes went to the counter, only to be greeted with the sight of various large, dripping “candles”, one particularly impressive specimen attended by a hand.  _Patrick’s_ hand.  A fake prop hand, but still.  Nope, nope nope!  She looked over at the decorations.  Eggplants.  Big, purple eggplants.  Fucking _eggplants_.  The decorations were practically mocking her now.

 

She looked toward the rest of the crew in the room.  Brenda, eyes trained on Patrick, was fanning herself with a scrap piece of paper, making some vague excuse about the camera rig overheating when it was clearly fine.  Cheryl was likewise shifting in her seat at the view, crossing and uncrossing her legs.  Even Dan had his clipboard notably held across his lap, eyes wide.  He leaned over to whisper something to his wife; Natalie obviously couldn’t hear it, but based on the mouth movements it was something along the lines of, “Do you think he’d eat one of the candles?”  Patrick’s assistant stood in the corner, apparently playing a game on their iPad, looking somewhere between bored and irritated, as if they’d had to witness this happening far too often.

 

Natalie saw Cheryl deliberately adjust her headset, as if to distract herself.  “Nat,” she began once the microphone was in place, “…we’re going to get a _billion_ views.”

 

Nat made the mistake of looking over at Patrick and meeting his eyes again.  “I think…” she responded back, not caring that obviously speaking back to Cheryl technically ruined the take, “I think we’re going to get _de-monetized_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to SerenitySpiral for the moodboard!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter begins with a flashback showing Patrick's POV, before getting back to where we left off!

~~Another Side: Patrick~~

[A couple weeks before filming…]

 

“Are you _serious_ , Pete?” Patrick demanded, exasperated.  “You lost _another_ bet to Bert?”

 

“What can I say?  The dude is awesome at golf!”

 

“Ok, but the last one meant you had to let him direct our next music video.  What the Hell are you going to give him for this one?”

 

“Relax, ‘Trick, all I gotta do is a quick guest spot on his cousin’s cooking show.  It’s all on YouTube, called Tillie’s Treats.  It’s actually not that bad.”  To demonstrate, Pete pulled up one of the episodes on his phone.  It really wasn’t that bad.  And the host girl was rather attractive…

 

Patrick queued up several more episodes on his own phone to watch during rehearsal breaks.

 

***

[A few days before filming…]

 

“So, dude, when are we gonna actually get to taste the outcome of your newfound interest in cooking?” Joe asked, catching Patrick watching Tillie’s Treats on his phone again.  “We could use some better stuff on the rehearsal potluck table.”

 

“Nah, Joe, don’t get your hopes up,” Pete chimed in, gliding into the room with Starbucks in hand.  “It’s pretty clear that he isn’t watching it for the cooking.  He’s doing what I think the kids these days call ‘thirst watching’.”

 

“Thirst…watching??” Patrick was confused, and obviously unfamiliar with internet slang.

 

“Basically, you’d rather be using your mouth on _her_ rather than that food,” Joe explained.

 

“Oh, really, what evidence do you have that I’m _not_ learning how to cook?”

 

Joe just indicated the woefully bare potluck lunch table again.

 

As soon as rehearsal finished, Patrick rushed to the grocery store for a hasty set of ingredients.  He hoped the unfortunate, lopsided cakes he finished (with middle fingers drawn in the frosting for the cakes intended for Joe and Pete) would be enough to cover the truth that he had, in fact, been caught _thirst watching_.

 

***

[That fateful day…]

 

They were filming the video when Pete got the call from the record label.  Apparently, there was some sort of unforeseen issue with… _something_ , some kind of scheduling mix up. Something about Pete needing to appear on some other radio show?  Patrick, overhearing the conversation from where he was awaiting his next scene, forgot the exact details in the whirlwind of what happened next.

 

“Sorry, Bert, I have to go!”

 

“Hey, but we had a bet!  You owe me your guest appearance on my little Cuz’s show!  Today!”

 

“Sorry, but I just can’t do it!  I’d love to, I really would, but if I don’t get this straightened up right now the whole music video might be fucked!  The label is _that_ pissed off if I don’t show up.”

 

“But my little cousin!  Poor girl’s probably already announced to the world that Tillie’s Treats is gonna have a guest star, she’s got everything ready to go right now…”

 

“I’ll do it!”  Patrick chimed in.

 

“What?  But… Patrick, you don’t owe me a bet.  You realize this is an unpaid gig, right?  Showing up on a YouTube cooking show?”

 

“Yes, but you yourself just said that she’ll be disappointed since it’s all been set up.  Plus, I have been watching her show quite a bit,” Patrick reasoned.  A mischievous glare from Pete spurred him to hastily add, “I’ve been watching so I can learn to cook!”

 

“Ok, if you want to do this out of the charity in your heart, Stump, you can do it,” Bert agreed, before fixing a glare at Pete.  “You _still_ owe me for our bet, though, Wentz.”

 

As Bert called his cousin to tell her what new guest star to expect, Pete pulled Patrick aside.

 

“Hey, since you’re finally getting to meet your dream girl, you should probably have these,” Pete said, slapping a set of condoms into Patrick’s hand.  The foil packets were purple and emblazoned with the MANIA Corp logo.  “The condoms themselves are even purple!  Gotta keep things _thematic_.”

 

“Hey, you’re being way over-optimistic about my chances and _HEY WAIT are we actually selling these???_ ”

 

Pete let out a hearty laugh.  “ _Relax_ , ‘Trick!  I just had some made up as a novelty joke I figured I could spring on you at some point.  I have some for Andy that say ‘100% Vegan Dick’ on them.  Still figuring out an excuse to give him those…”

 

“Look, Pete, there’s no way I’ll be needing to use these,” Patrick stated as he tried to hand the condoms back to Pete.  Pete just shoved them back to Patrick.

 

“Look, dude, don’t be so hard on yourself.  You never know, you might get lucky!  It can’t hurt to be prepared!”

 

While he didn’t exactly want to admit it directly, it was true that Patrick hadn’t exactly volunteered _just_ out of the kindness of his heart…

 

Patrick relented and put the condoms in the inner pocket of his jean jacket.  Even if he did “get lucky”, he wasn’t sure if bright purple condoms would be the way he’d prefer to set the mood.  On the way to the Tillie’s Treats studio, he briefly considered stopping at a store to get normal condoms, but decided against it.  His assistant was in the car with him after all, so it would be a bit awkward.  As for needing condoms… sure, he was going to flirt with Tillie a little.  Ok, maybe a _lot_ , if she was into it.  But there’s no way he’d be that lucky, right?  How many sexy opportunities would a cooking show even offer?

 

****************************************************

 

_Somehow_ the crew managed to finish the filming.  Patrick finished indecently eating the recipe, Nat managed to stumble her way through the outro, and Brenda cut the camera feed.  Nat was pretty sure that for a hot second, both she and her entire crew had been on the verge of instantaneously converting the place into a porn studio.  She practically bolted from the set the second Cheryl had yelled the final “cut!”

 

Nat slammed her dressing room door, locked it shut, and unceremoniously shoved a hand into her panties to give herself some quick relief.  She already knew that this would likely be only the first of many times she’d fantasize about what had happened that day.  All the innuendo, the little touches, the flirting, _that goddamn finale_ …

 

Honestly it would be a miracle of editing if the crew found a way to cut that into a PG-13 level episode.

 

“Hey Nat, your guest star wanted to talk to you before he left!  Are you alright?” Cheryl asked through the door.  _Interrupted again._

 

“Tell him I’ll be out in a second!”  Nat did her best to straighten herself back out.  Shit, she’d have to hold it together just that much longer.  Or… maybe not.  She could make good on that idea of taking him somewhere secluded…

 

“He’s waiting for you in the show kitchen!”

 

Crap, he was less likely to be alone there.  Oh well, it was something.

 

Miraculously, he _was_ alone, not even the assistant in sight.

 

“Hey, Nat, are you alright?  You… kind of bolted earlier.”  He seemed genuinely concerned, hands fidgeting a bit. “I hope I didn’t offend you…”

 

“Oh!  No, not at all!” she realized that bolting earlier could have sent the wrong impression.

 

“Oh?”

 

“Actually, I… really liked it,” she continued, stepping towards him.  “It… _you_ were perfect.  Absolutely perfect.”  She continued moving closer.

 

“Perfect?  I’m not so sure about that--”  He moved toward her, both of them gravitating toward some random central point.

 

“No, seriously!” They were in each other’s personal space now.  “All of that humor was just _on point_ , exactly what I wanted, and honestly--”  Natalie trailed off.  Her eyes studied his face, barely a breath away from hers.  Her gaze darted from his eyes, which returned that piercing gaze, to his lovely, talented mouth.  His tongue darted out to lick his lips as he studied her with equal intensity.

 

They finally met in a hands-grasping, tongues-tangling kiss.  One of his hands went to her back, holding her to him, while the other wandered into her hair, fingers tangling in the locks.  She whisked off his cap, tossing it onto the counter, and returned the favor, running her hands through the short strands at the back of his neck.  She gasped as the hand on her back moved to her ass, but didn’t break the kiss.  She wanted to savor this moment, to stretch time as much as she possibly could.

 

They reluctantly broke the kiss, breathing heavy and starved of air, but neither made any action to move away.

 

“ _Honestly_ ,” Nat took the opportunity to continue, whispering into his ear, “I’m aroused as _fuck_.”

 

That seemed to be the exact encouragement he needed; the next thing she knew, she was pinned leaning against the counter, capturing her in a searing kiss again.  As if to answer if he felt the same, he took one of her hands and guided it to the front of his jeans, letting her feel the blatant hardness underneath.  She started teasing him through the layers of fabric as that talented mouth set to work on her neck, his hand sneaking under her shirt to palm her over her bra.

 

“Take this off, now” he whispered into her ear, pulling away slightly to afford her the room to maneuver.  She knew he probably meant both her bra and her shirt, but she decided to be a tease and instead pulled her bra out her sleeve without taking off her blouse, smirking at him all the while.  She couldn’t help but giggle a little at his momentary surprised reaction.

 

“Alright, now the shirt too.”

 

“Oh, so you _do_ like giving orders,” she teased.

 

“Hey, I let you order me around earlier!”  She took a second to enjoy his adorable faux-indignant pout before tossing her shirt aside as well. 

 

He wasted no time in exploring the newly exposed skin, lips trailing down, teeth nipping lightly at her collar bone, before descending to take one nipple in his mouth while his hand worked the other.  Nat felt like her skin was aflame, the ache between her legs getting almost unbearable as she moaned and writhed under him.

 

He worked his way downwards with his mouth, pressing teasing kisses to the waistband of her skirt, while his other hand brushed its way up to work her through her soaked panties.  She moaned his name at this fleeting bit of relief.

 

“Lift your skirt for me,” he breathed against her skin.

 

She was all too eager to do so, not even caring to try and be a tease about it.  She regretted going for a normal plain set of underwear that day, but hey, she certainly hadn’t expected _this_ to happen.  He certainly didn’t seem to mind, at least.  He hooked his fingers in her waistband to gently pull her panties down, fingers stroking against her legs as he did so.  He paused to let her kick off her shoes before removing the garment completely as he knelt before her.  She thought she caught him stuffing it in one of the jacket pockets.

 

She had little time to ponder that as his mouth was working on her inner thighs, nipping at the sensitive skin as he inched ever closer to where she desperately needed him.  It was probably embarrassingly obvious to him how aroused she was.

 

“Patrick, _please_ ,” she practically whined, “Someone could walk in at any time…”  She hoped he understood this as a call to hurry up rather than to stop.  After all, if any of her crew walked in, with her topless and her frumpy kitchen-show-host skirt hiked to her waist…

 

He answered her with a searing glare that made it clear that, though he was the one on his knees, he was the one calling the shots for now.  He paused a moment to remove his glasses and set them neatly on the counter.  He hiked one of her legs over his shoulder, bracing her thighs apart and giving him better access, before finally, _finally_ putting that talented mouth where she wanted.

 

As it turned out, that lucky pastry had only gotten a preview of his talents.  Her hand that wasn’t holding up her skirt went to his hair.  She didn’t care that this meant that the counter uncomfortably dug into her back now; it was worth it to live out this part of her fantasy.  He thoroughly explored her folds with lips and tongue, clearly playing attention to what made the most wanton noises spill from her.  He moaned with pleasure at the taste of her— _genuinely_ this time, not to tease her over a plate of poorly made dessert.  In short order he introduced his fingers, finding her g-spot with ease.

 

She wasn’t going to last long.  She knew he probably could tell as well, given how her pussy was tightening and quivering around those elegant fingers.  She managed to pry her eyes open and look down at him, rewarded with the sight of him palming himself through his pants to give himself scant relief as he focused on her pleasure.  That sight, combined with one more expert stroke of his fingers and flick of his tongue against her clit, _finally_ brought her over the edge, shamelessly moaning out his name.

 

After giving her a moment to recover, he removed his fingers and stood, grabbing one of the paper napkins from the counter to clean his chin a bit before moving back to hold her and kiss her again.

 

“That was _wonderful_ ,” she couldn’t help but breathlessly compliment, even though her enjoyment was pretty obvious.  The cute smile he gave in reaction was worth the extra effort.  “Your turn now, sweetheart!” she blurted out playfully, only afterwards stopping to wonder if ‘sweetheart’ was possibly too intimate.

 

“Oh no, you made me struggle through _two_ recipes, _dear_ ,” he said with a sparkle in his eye that showed he was every bit as intent on matching her tone here as he had been on the show.  “So I’ll ask one more thing of you.”

 

“And what would that be?”

 

He drew out her anticipation by putting his lips to her neck again, trailing upwards until he could whisper in her ear, “Turn around and lean over the counter.”

 

That sent the fire of her arousal roaring back to life.  Immediately she threw off her skirt, leaving it to pile in the corner with her other clothes.  She did as asked, turning around and bracing herself against the countertop, arching her hips upward and tossing a glance over her shoulder in what she hoped was a properly enticing way.  Given his pupils-blown, slack-jawed, very aroused and possibly in awe expression, she felt confident about the results.

 

She didn’t bother to be coy or hide her stare as she watched him unbuckle his belt and set to work unfastening his pants.  “Aren’t you going to undress a little more?”

 

“Uh, well, like you said someone might walk in here.  May as well have one of us clothed?”  It was a flimsy-ass excuse and they both knew it.  But she understood that he had some bodily insecurities and maybe now wasn’t the best time to bring that up.

 

“However, you’re comfortable, then.”  She’d wanted to scream ‘ _You idiot, I’m naked and bent over a counter for you and you’re worried what I’d think of you naked?_ ’ instead, but was still so shocked by the unexpected luck of her day that she decided not to press it.  Despite the neck strain, she still very much got to enjoy the visual of him pushing his pants and boxers down to free his cock, taking the thick shaft in hand and stroking himself a few times.

 

“Condoms?”

 

“Don’t worry, I have some,” he said, retrieving one from his jacket pocket.  _Wait, was that package MANIA branded?_   And the condom itself was…

 

“Purple?  Really?” she asked, cocking an eyebrow.

 

“Just, uh, keeping things _thematic_ ,” he replied with a slightly nervous smile, scratching the back of his neck.  “Unfortunately these are the only ones I have so if the color bothers you…”

 

“Oh, no, it’s fine!” she said with a reassuring giggle.  “Just not what I expected from you!”  The neck strain finally got to her, and she turned back around.  She wasn’t sure whether or not she should have taken the opportunity for a ‘more than you bargained for’ reference.

 

His hands were on her instantly again, as if to make up for the lack of visual contact, soft touches running up her sides, kisses pressed to her spine as his hands went to tease her nipples again, before dipping down to her sensitive clit.

 

“Just _fuck me already_!”  She was equal parts in love with and frustrated by his self-satisfied chuckle as he finally, _finally_ positioned his cock at the entrance to her pussy.  His hands held her hips steady as he slowly entered, letting her feel every inch.

 

“Let me know if anything’s uncomfortable, alright?”

 

She quickly nodded in agreement.

 

He started slowly, thumbs rubbing circles into her hips as he got a feel for her, finding what angle seemed to give her the most pleasure.  It wasn’t long before he picked up the pace, setting a demanding rhythm that had Nat bracing her grip on the counter.  Wanting to hear her lovely moans again, he set his fingers to work her clit in time with his thrusts.  Nat practically screamed his name,, and they were both thankful that, due to its use as a film set, the kitchen had been partially soundproofed from the rest of the studio.

 

The cold countertop digging into her skin was a sharp contrast to his heat behind her, the sharp chill of sterile tile and the roughness of grout directly opposite to the kisses he pressed to her back and the whispers of lust-fueled affection that spilled from him.  The brush of his shirt and jacket against her bare skin added to the heightened sensation.  She looked up and found herself looking into the studio camera, powered off but still pointed squarely at the—well, she hesitated to call them _lovers_ exactly, given the sudden nature of it all, but still.  There was no chance it was recording; Brenda not only removed the memory cards but unplugged the machine after every filming.  Still, she couldn’t help but feel a bit of extra heat course through her at the thought of having this recorded, personal and professional consequences be damned.  It would be proof that this hadn’t all been some wonderful dream.

 

“Patrick, I’m close,” she managed between moans and panting breaths.  She was just on the edge, dripping with sweat, and wanted nothing more than to be holding him rather than the side of the counter.  “ _Please_ , let me see you.”

 

“I will,” he responded, equally breathless.  “I will… just… cum for me one more time.”  Those words sent her spiraling into pleasure for the second time, pussy clenching around him as she keened his name.

 

_Dear god what kind of stamina does he have?_   She couldn’t help but wonder as she found herself suddenly flipped around, awkwardly stuck half-leaning half-standing against the kitchen island, one leg held around his waist as he thrust back inside.  He kissed her as if he were a drowning man and she the air that would save him, while shamelessly chasing his own release.  She wove her hands under his sweat-soaked shirt— _if he won’t let me_ **see** _, at least I can_ **feel** —exploring his body and scratching down his back.

 

She was on the verge of overstimulation when he finally gave in to his pleasure, coming with stuttering hips and one last heated moan of her name into her ear.

 

Given the awkward position, they had to move almost immediately, him pulling out and disposing of the condom and her finally getting to stand up straight.  Still, once decently comfortable, they stood together, holding each other, slowly coming down from their highs and catching their breaths.

 

“That was…” he trailed off, looking into her eyes with a smile.

 

“ _Yeah_ …” she responded with her own smile.  They were both still a little beyond words at the moment.

 

They helped each other get re-dressed and straightened out as best they could.  Patrick had sweated through his shirt, and his cap was shoved back on top of tousled hair.  Nat’s blouse and skirt were rumpled and her panties were missing—the only thing keeping her from worrying about a crew member finding panties in the kitchen later was the fact that she had a pretty good guess where those had disappeared to.  At least the skirt was long enough that she felt confident she could get home without anyone suspecting she was going commando.  Still, it would be pretty obvious to any onlookers what type of activities they’d been up to.

 

She walked him to his car.  It appeared all the other crew members had gone home while she’d been…occupied.  Patrick’s assistant was already waiting in the passenger seat, playing games on their phone to kill the boredom.  Before he opened the car door, Patrick turned to Nat and placed a small folded paper in her hand.

 

“Here, I’d like you to have this,” he explained as she unfolded the note.  “It’s my personal contact info.  I really enjoyed today, and would love to do it again.”

 

“That would be wonderful!” Nat’s face broke into an adorable grin.  “Wait, the cooking, or the…”

 

“Both!  Or either!  Or, you know, dinner, a movie…whatever you want…”

 

“Dinner sounds great!  Heh, maybe I’ll make you cook it on the show!”

 

“Well, if that’s what it takes…” he replied with a laugh.  With one last hug, he got into the car.  As he started to drive away, he rolled down the window to shout one last playful, “Call me!”

 

She would.  She certainly would.

 

****************************************************

 

“So, Patrick, learn anything cool at your thirst-volunteer cooking show?” Joe teased as he arrived at the next day of video shoot.

 

“Actually, yes, I learned to cook _two_ dishes!”

 

“Oh, really, you go from no cooking to two full dishes in a day?”

 

“Yeah, I even made some for you to try.  They’re on the snack table by the dressing rooms.”

 

Patrick just waited there as Joe went down the hallway towards his dressing room and the snack table.  He knew the moment Joe saw the results, as Joe’s shout echoed down the hall.

“ _Dude_ , what the _FUCK?!?”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so, so much to the ladies of the smut!coven, who provided so much positive feedback! If it wasn't for that, I'd have never posted this publicly.
> 
> One of them, SerenitySpiral, is also on Ao3-- go check out her fic!


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